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mm. THE SKNTINEL, Established In 1870. THE REPUBLICAN, Established In 1884. 'Independent in -All Things. 3. W. DORRINGTON, Proprietor. VOLUME XV. YUMA, ARIZONA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 1886. NUMBER 12. THE MELLOW STRAIN. Flie sinking sun had streaked the west With flecks of gold and crimson bars; The wandering wind had sunk to rest, And In the cold cast rose the stars. The evening chimes, like gladsome psalm, 1'ealed loud from outtho old church tower; and o'er the valley fell the calm Which broods upon the twilight hour. L.oud through the eve wrapt, listening vale, From humble bower of eglantine, A blackbird trilled his mellow talc. As it he sang through-luscious wine. By cottage, orange and hall around, Eraptured listeners lingered long; All heard the self-same fluting sound, While each interpreted the song. A little child scarce throe years old. In wonder woko to Vision dim Of crowns and dulcimers of gold And surging strains of holy hymn, tn that sweet land that's brighter far Than s'jlnhig shores in emerald seas, Where glows the lustrous evening star Above the fair Ilesperides. A maiden, at the moss-fringed well, lteslde her pitcher lingered long. Her soul enthralled with the strange spell Contained within that mystic song, for, oh! lo lier it ever sings Of love which all her being fills And of the lad that twilight brings From over the dividing hills. lo child and youth and maiden fair That bird made glad the closing day, But dame and sire with silvered hair Drew sorrow from Its roundelay. All filtered through the years of woe On their hearts fell the mellow strain Waking- the songs of long ago And made them sigh for youth again. All the Year Hound. RIP VAN WINKLE. Not Irving's, But the Original, Orl "ental "Rip." It is sometimes difficult to determine the real origin of many of the best sto ries that we are accustomed to read in our story books. Any of you who have tried to trace to their source anecdotes that 3'ou have heard, have doubtless found that they have been told " oftener than once, and that at each telling they differed in essential particulars. A long time ago Solomon announced that there was "nothing new under the sun." Some of our best stories are only the reproductions of an ancient historical legend or an old-time myth. Many of these can be traced back to very ancient times, and have passed through many tranformations before they came to us. Originally put in form by some dark bearded, turban-crowned story teller of the Orient, it was seized upon by the fanciful and beauty-loving Greeks. From them it was stolen by the Romans, who plundered literature as they did provinces. During the middle ages the Anglo-Saxon and Norman monk3, for lack of other employment, and feeling sauiy in ueeu ui suuieuuiig iu uo, sum op as they were, in their gloomy mon asteries, took the old stories from their Latin books, and rewrote them again. These, in turn, became the source from which our best modern writers have drawn some of their most pleasing sto ries. Most of you have, doubtless, read Washington Irving's story of Rip Van Winkle. You are familiar with every character and incident of the tale the convivial Rip prone to over indulgence at his beloved cups, the elfin necroman cers,, the sleep of twenty years and the return and confusion of the unconscious sleeper at the change he witnessed all portrayed as Irving alone could do it Yet this is but one of the many legends which genius has rescued from oblivion, and reclothing in fresher garb, handed down to posterity. The story comes from the Orient, and is as interesting as any of the wonderful Arabian Nights. Its hero can claim equal rank with Aladdin, Camaralzaman, Sinbad, or any of the other old worthies whose exper iences are recorded in that magnificent Eastern story book. In Irving's story it is a party of hobgoblins who perform the office of enchantment, and the vic tim is a good-natured Dutchman, who is overcome by the potent influence of the enchanted gin. The original is a rather more pleasing story upon the whole, although the end is as pathetic as that of its modern counterpart. No flagon of charmed stimlant has a part in the story, and the funny little Dutch necromancers arc left out. Instead a beautiful, fairy plays the part of eng chantress, and a little golden casket is the fatal gift by which the finale is brought about Mahmoud was a handsome young fish erman, who spread his nets and rowed his boat on the silver tide of the Euphrates where the towers of Bassorah overlook the deep. He was as good natured and industrious as he was handsome, work ing hard early and late, and always sing ing at his toil. His little stall in Basso rah was kept well stocked with his finny merchandise, and he found ready pa trons, for his pleasant face and cheerful words quite won the hearts of old and young m the seaport town. The young man did most of his fishing in the night, for the shop on the street required his presence during the day. But of this he did not complain, for his seines were always drawn in full, and he had need of only a little sleep. Mahmoud Ben Ali was a prosperous and contented man. One night as he was toiling at his nets he was summoned to the shore by sev eral loud cries for help. Hastening in the direction of the sounds he came to where two brutal fishermen were drag- fing an old woman toward one of the uts outside of the city walls. She was struggling manfully to resist them, but their united strength was too much for her. "Why do ye do this, my brethrenP" asked Mahmoud, calmly, as he put him self in their way. "Doth not the mas ter's book say, we shall respect those who hath gray hair?" "She is a witch," cried one of the men, "she hath bewitched our nets and driven the fish away. Take that, good mother, and to-morrow ye shall go before the Cadi; then we shall see what will become of your sorceries." With that lie struck her with his sandal, and with his companion's help continued to drag her along. "Help me, young sir," cried the woman to Mahmoud, "help me, and Allah will reward thee." Her imploring voice and his natural fallantry prevailed over any thought of anger, and he rushed upon her as sailants. "Ye do wrong to beat a woman," he Baid, "and I will see that justice is done." And he laid on so- lustily, and was so much stronger than they, that he rescued the poor woman ana drove the fishermen away. "Art hurt, mother?" he asked, kind ly, stooping to raise the decrepit crea ture from the earth. "Help me to the sea," she answered "I have a boat there and shall not fear then. Thank vou. von are verv kind." They walked down to the shore to gether, where Mahmoud found a boat under a clump of palms. JHe was go ing to assist her to unmoor it, but she stepped into tne water and an at once he became conscious of a great change in his com panion. A brieht light shone all about him: at first he thought it was the moon rising whose beams kindled such an illumination. But in a moment he knew it was not that Be fore him he saw, not "a wretchedly dressed, feeble old woman, but a superb ly beautiful maiden, clad m diaphanous robes, who seemed to float upon the waves. The bright light was the ra diancc emanating from her crown. "Mahmoud, son of Ali," she said, in a sweet voice, "know that I am Danea, the fairy of the sea. You have done me a great service. 1 have long been cognizant of thy industry and the care thou hast shown thy aged parents, Thy good qualities as well as thy gen erous deed to-night deserve a reward Come down with me beneath tne sea, where the splendor of my home will dazzle thee and there will be no labor for thy hands to-do. Wilt thou come?" Now Mahmoud was like many other young people, easily led astray, n only tne right temptation was placed betore him. The reason why he had been so steady before was because ne had never been subjected to that temptation to which he was most susceptible. He should haveanswered "no, at once, but he dilly dallied, muttered something about his parents' anxiety at his absence and how they depended on him for their daily lood. 'Nay, they will not suffer," said the fairy. "Thou shalt return in three days if thou wilt Only come with me now and behold the splendors of my king dom." He turned to look for the towers of Bassorah, hoping to see the roof of his little cottage, but the palm trees stood between with their waving branches. The fairy stood waiting, her beautiful eyes beseeching him, ner white arms beckoning him. He could not resist the spell. "I will go with thee," he said, casting his fears behind him. So the fairy took his hand, and strik ing the waves with her wand, they both sank far below. What a broad, roomy kingdom it was in the bottom of the I sea among the corals and waving grasses and glistening pearls: A. new world of marvel and delight was opened to the eyes of the wondering fisherman. He was surrounded by a paradise of de lights.. Grottos of surpassing beauty and extent were filled with every splen dor that could tempt the senses. The most ravishing music arose from un seen orchestras. The most delicious viands were placed before him at every meal. His couch was of purple-colored sponges decorated with the finest sea weeds. Maidens of incomparable love liness performed the commands of their queen and waited upon his every wish. No king in all the world could have been served more sumptuously. Two days passed in this manner, and Mahmoud began to think of home. He knew his old father and mother were grieving at his absence, and his heart misgave him. On the third day he so licited leave of the fairy to depart from her dominions and return to his old em ployment at Bassorah. She frowned a little at his evident weariness of her hospitality. "Mor tal," she said, "thou art foolish to wish to return to earth again and to your daily labor, but your desire shall be gratified!" At parting she put into his hands a golden casket and a key. "Take this," she said, "as the gift of the fair Danea, but never open it, I beg you, for your life, till the very worst happens. The consequences will be graver than you think if you disobey me. Mahmoud, son of Ali, you are on the waters before Bassorah again." He looked around him, and saw that he was in a boat not far from the shore. The lights of Bassorah twinkled among the palm and citron groves. Silently he rowed ashore and sought to find his humble stall, which he Lad left three days before. To his surprise he found the site occupied by a magnificent palace. Determined to learn who had thus tres passed upon his property, he knocked loudly at the gate. Before any of the servants appeared in response to the summons, a night watchman came along, and demanded to know why ho made so great a disturbance. "I would like to know why this pal ace has been built on my land!" "Who are you?" asked the astonished guard. "Mahmoud Ben Ali. Three days ago I left my shop standing on this very ground. Now this palace stands here, and my shop has been demolished." "Verily, you are mad," exclaimed ttie officer. "This palace has stood h'ere more than fifty years. You must go before the cadi, if you persist in telling a story like this." In the presence of that officer he told the same story, but, of course, no one believed him. "I will have my rights!" cried Mah moud, "I will appeal to Suliman, the Galiph. "Why, man, you are stark crazy. Almanin, son of the great Haroun, is the Caliph now. Suliman has been dead three hundred years, and there is a new dynasty." "And know you not Ali, the son of Hissan, the son of Abbas, the fisher man, who dwells near by the house of Merwan the scribe?" asked Mahmoud. . The cadi looked curiously at the as sembled spectators, but said nothing. "I am the son of Ali," continued Mahmoud; "send for the old man, and see if his story will not corroborate mine." "No such person as you name lives at present in the city," answered the cadi. "You are evidently an honest fellow but a little out See to it that you make no further, disturbance, or worse will come upon you, Your case is dismissed." Mahmoud wandered now disconsolate ly about the city, vainly endeavoring to' find some familiar face or scene. But everything appeared strange to him, and there was not one who recognized him. At last, he met an old man, whose bent form aud snow white hair testified that he must be very near the age of a cen tury. Of him, Mahmoud asked: "Dost thou remember Ali, the son of Has san?" " The old man shook his head at first. "I am his son Mahmoud," continued the young man, "I am Mahmoud Ben Ali." At that the old man pricked up his cars. "I remember when I was a boy, of hearing my father tell about a young fisherman named Mahmoud who disap- E eared one day very suddenly, and left is aged parents to die of want. That was many years before thou wast born. Their graves I can show you, if you de sire to see them." "Lead me to them," groaned Mah moud, feeling very sad and thoughtful. He was conducted by his aged guide to an ancient cemetery outside the city walls. Age and decay seemed to have chosen the place for their habitation. Everything was in a ruinous slate, and there were his parents' graves with the crumbling stone, which told that they had been there already a hundred years. The voune: man fell down and wept immoderately upon the soil that covered the remains of those he had so loved and revered. When he arose the old man was gone. "It is the work of that spiteful fairy,". he cried, wringing his hands. "HI was the day I yielded to her blandishments. She has used enchantment Perhaps this will revoke the spell. He still held possession of the golden casket, and he now took it and examined it curiously. At last he inserted the key. I will do it, he muttered, "she told mo never to open it, but things can not be worse than they now arc. What can happen more lamentable than my parents' death, or to be a hundred years behind my timer Allan guard me from a worse. So he turned the key, and opened the casket h rom it issued a white vapor, which enveloped him, and under its in fluence the young man fell to the arminfl T?iit. ho w.15 .vnnnor nn lnnorpr He lost his elasticity of limb, his Bair turned gray, and his form was bent as with the weight of years. In a few mo ments he died, clasping iast the golden easket, whose contents "had been so fatal. The Interior. THE NEWSPAPER. An Educator Whoso Powers for Good are Not Tally Appreciated. T. V. Towderly, General Master Workman of the Kniu Labor, says: "If every laborer and every manufac turer would read a good paper and keep posted on the topics of the time I feel certain there would be less trouble." Indeed there would, and the compliment to the press may be accepted without the smallest blushing. The first busi ness of the newspaper press is to give the news, and that every man ought to have. The ndxt is to make such com ment on the news as seems to be iust, and we venture to say that in nine out of ten cases this comment is based upon honest and intelligent opinion. The opinion, moreover, is usually formed by men who have no personal interest in the matters at issue. It is the busi ness of these men to judge and to be fair in their judgment. While they have not the official authority of the bench, they at least have its impartiali ty, and in many case3 its ability as well. The press gathers to itself ex- peris in taw, in puuooopny, in science, in theology, in art, in the drama, and in all the lighter pursuits of life. The time will come when it will de- velope all these specialties to a far greater degree than it does now; and the time will likewise come when the man who does not read the paper will be looked upon with the contempt or pity that now belongs to tne individual wlio can not read at all. An employer with out a newspaper? An employe without one? So much for a few cents, and yet a man or a woman so villainously ig norant that they choose not to buy? The newspaper is a volume of informa tion. The man who reads it gets for a few cents the work of the best writers of all kinds, of the best theotists, the best detectives, the best artisans in news a s well as thought The ereat trouble with the newspaper is that it is given away. A good newspaper ought to cost more than a cigar or a glass of beer. It is flung in the face of ignorance and in telligence alike, and neither gives it half its value. N. Y. Graphic. THE RABIES. An Impartial VIow of Pasteur's System of Inoculation. Pasteur's system of inoculation by which he cures rabies, has brought to light the fact that hydrophobia is a much more common affliction than has been generally suspected. The great French savant has announced to the world that he will and can -neutralize this dreadful poison without money and without price, whereupon literally hundreds of people from different parts of the world, bend their steps toward Paris. It is settled beyond all peradventure that there is no danger of hydrophobia if the bite of the dog is two years old, but mere is no certainty within the two years. lh& incubation of the poison may take from one to six months, and this is why the afflicted hasten at once to France, and place themselves under the care of the man who has immortal ized himself by discovering an antidote for hydrophobia. Curiously enough, this great discovery is meeting the fate of Jenner's cow-pox inoculation to neutralize the small-pox poison. Vul gar and ignorant people say it is flying in the face of Providence to attempt to cure this dreadful disease. Rochefort, the famous French Radical, is leading the attack on Pasteur and his hydropho bia remedy, but facts are stubborn things, and if those who are bitten by mad dogs are saved from rabies by Pasteur's discovery, it will redound to his glory, and the confusion of bis ene mies. DemoresVs Monthly, RUNNING A FURNACE. How Mr. Jones Managed to Keep Warm While HI Family Shivered. There arc few things in this world so easy as running a furnace. That is what Jones thought when he put his in last fall; though, to tell the truth, the opinion was not original with Jones. It was suggested to Jones in the first place by the man who sold the furnace, but Jones received the opinion as a sort of chromo thrown in1 with the furnace, and utilized, it as though it were his own property, as in deed it was. .' The first time that Jones attempted to build a fire in his new furnace, he suc ceeded admirably in making a roaring blaze with the kindlings, in blackening his htfhds and face and transmuting himself into the semblance of a burnt cork serenader of the Megatherium or Senegambian variety, and in driving the family incontinently from the house by that peculiarly pungent odor which is sent forth by heated stove-polish fresh from the shop; but he was not so suc cessful in accomplishing a fire. The kindlings behaved in a most praiseworthy' manner, allowing them selves to be consumed to the uttermost splinter, but they failed miserably in transferring their warmth to the coal which Jones had very liberally shoveled atop of them. In fact, when the flames had finished the kindlings, they appeared to have considered their part of the con tract completed, and unceremoniously went about their business elsewhere. Then Jones proceeded to fill his hair and cover his clothing with dust by means of the shaker, which the dealer had assured Jones could be operated without raising sufficient dust to soil a lady's pocket-handkerchief. Unfortun ately, Jones did not have a lady's pocket handkerchief with him at the time, or he would, perhaps, have demonstrated to the world that whereas this shaker might be somewhat careless in regard to the person and clothing of a great horrid man, it was eminently punctilious in its regard for the pocket-handkerchief of the fair sex. But, however it might have been with the supposititious handkerchief afore said, there could be no doubt about the possibilities of that shaker in the' dust-raising line so far as Jones and his environment were concerned. The dust not only covered his exterior, but his ears and nose and mouth were crowded with it. His teeth were as full of giit as ;i p'. ?1 r-k, nu'i .it every inhalation the carboniferous de posits in his lungs grew more dense. j Jones got the thing cleaned out at ! last li(, his natural bermty was not ini- ! proved by the exupncnrf TL had p. ispired y!c ;'.r."v vhat with the' li" 'i of iiia .v. .- i'oij- ddu to! tne artinuiui neat wmuu mo nii.iiiii had created in the furnace (not to speak of the temperature his temper had acquired by this time), and the dirty streams which constantly flowed adown his face on to his linen did not add to the cleanliness of his appearance. Then he filled her up again and touched her off. It was all right this time, and in less than a half-hour every window in the house had to be opened to prevent its occupants from slow but certain cremation. But that was not the fault of the furnace. It was all owing to the weather being so unseason ably warm. "Wait until we have a cold day," said Jones. Well, next day it was cold enough to suit an arctic adventurei. "Now," said Jones, "we'll show 'em how to keep warm!" And as he shov eled in the coal it is remarkable how much coal a furnace can get away with when its appetite is all right he chuckled to himself as he thought how snug and warm he should be, while Thompson's folks, across the way, would be shivering like a slack sail in a gale of wind. By this time Jones had a roaring fire. "That'll do," he said, with aglow of satisfaction irradiating his features; "that'll do." Then he went up-stairs, to find Mrs. Jones and the children hud dled about the register, looking more like the family of Harry Gill of chatter ing memory, than the wife and off spring of John Jones, owner of a new and improved furnace. And they continued to chatter, not withstanding Jones did little else all day long than to pile the anthracite into the greedy maw of that furnace. He opened the cold-air box, he shut the cold-air box, he shut this damper and opened that check draft; Heaven knows what he didn't do. But it was no use. The at mosphere above the cellar floor was arctic, and his wife and children were not happy not so happy, perhaps, as the Thompsons, across the way, who circled about their red-faced stove, and quite forgot to shiver; nor so comfort able as the sparrows on the chimney top, for there seemed to be no lack of heat there else why should all the spar rows in the neighborhood perch thereon, as about a family hearth? The weather began to moderate that night; then the furnace, to show that it could be versatile as well as the weather, began to send up a fervent breath through the registers, and by the time the mercury outside had risen to sixty degrees or thereabouts, the temperature in the Jones domicile was climbing up among the eighties. Up go the windows again. Jones still thinks that it is easy enough to run a furnace, but if you want to know how to run it so as to have a cool house on a warm day, and a warm house when the weather is cold, you must ask some body with more experience than he pos sesses. P. S. Jones has a new and improved furnace which he will sell cheap for cash. Boston Transcript. "Old man Pennybunkcr has mar ried again." "You don't tell me so." "Yes, and he has married a right young girl, forty years younger than he is." "Well, l declare, nis other wne only died six months ago and he went on so at the grave that I expected he would lose his mind." "Well, you see your prediction has come to pass." Texas Siftinqs. Poets and philosophers are the real thinkers of the world. The mathema tician among scholars is a mere figure head. N. 0. Picayune. PITH AND POINT. "I hev often noticed," says Josh Billings, "the man who would have done such wonderful things ef he had bin thare, never gits thare." A Burlington man has given up bantering his wife. He laughed at her for using cosmetics, and she informed him that when he stopped painting his nose she would stop painting her cheeks. Free Press. Mamma (with much show of indig nation) "I have called you three times. I am very much annoyed." Charlie (who is fond of Bible stories) "Well, the Lord called Samuel three times, and he didn't get mad about it, did he?" Life. A beautiful woman, with an artifi cially heightened color, once said to General Shields: "How is that, having obtained so much glory, you still seek for more?" "Ah, madam," he replied, with more force than politeness, "how is it that you, who have so much beauty, should still put on paint?" San Fran cisco Argonaut. "Claxton, I'm afraid your marriage relations are not the most pleasant." "Why do you think so, Bromley?" "You are getting bald, you know." "Yes; but it's not because my wife pulls my hair out I do it myself by scratching my head in my efforts to de vise means to gratify her extrava gance." Philadelphia Call. Mr. Fauxpas (to young lady) : Ah, Miss Charmante, I have just come from the side of Mrs. Smith, who has been asking me about the beautiful young lady at the flower table. Miss C. (ap pearing to busy herself in arranging some flowers) : Have you never known how I detest flattery? Mr. F. (who thinks he may have blundered) : O, but really, you know, it is dark over where she is sitting. One can hardly see you Harper's Bazar. CURRAN'S WIT. A Few Samples of the Saliva of the Wit tiest of Irishmen. To the bench Curran could be at times unceremonious. In his early days Judge Robinson made an attempt to extinguish the rising advocate. Rob inson, it was currently reported, owed his elevation to the publication of political pamphlets, remarkable only for their slavish meanness and scur rility. In arguing his case Curran rn'r! h" 'id consulted all his law books and could not hn the principle contended for. "I suspect, sir," said Robinson, " that your law library is rather Foamy." "It is very tru.-, my LoiJ," said Cairan, "that sit !vo!:- wrc not mmi.rou-.: but I w prepared rm'lf f,ir , high pr"' -oion luthr Lj u tr.ti) if i few good "books than by the com position of a great many bad ones." Curran was occasionally nonplussed by a witness. Inquiring his master's age from a horse trainer's servant, he could get no satisfactory an swer. "Come, come, friend," urged Curran, "has he lost his teeth?" ''Do you think," retorted the servant, "that I know his age as he does his horses by the mark of the mouth?" Once foiled by a Limerick banker with an iron leg, Curran in his address to the jury said that his leg was the softest part about him. In a debate in the House of Commons he stated that he needed no aid from any one, that he was proud to be "the guardian of his own honor." "Indeed," exclaimed Sir Boyle Roche, "I congratulate Mr. Cur ran on his holding a sinecure." Lord Clare was a determined enemy of Cur ran while he was at the bar. The Lord Chancellor ruined his practice at the Chancery court, and his clients were always sufferers. Indeed Curran stated that the losses in his pro fessional income from the ani mosity of Lord Clare amounted to no less than 30,000. The incidents in court in consequence of this disagree ment were sometimes ludicrous. On one occasion when it was known that the advocate was about to make an elaborate argument in chancery, Lord Clare brought a Newfoundland dog upon the bench with him, and paid much more attention to the dog than to the barrister, and the fact was com mented on by the profession. At a ma terial point in the argument the Chan cellor lost all decency, and turned quite aside to fondle the dog. Curran stopped at once. "Go on, go on," said Lord Clare. "Oh, I beg a thousand pardons, my Lord!" was the ready reply. "I really took it for granted your Lordship was engaged in consultation." Temple Bar. GREAT INDUCEMENTS. Ilow Mose Schaumburg Surprised the Clerk on New Tear's Day. On the last day of-the late year 1885, Tom Snickerson, a young man in Mose Schaumbnrg's Boss Clothing Emporium, intimated ihat he was going to quit "Do yon really vants to kervit my employments?" asked Mose. "Yes, Mr. Schaumburg, you are pay ing me only seven dollars a week and you treat me as if I was a yellow dog. I can no longer put up with such low wages and harsh treatment. You don't seem to think that I have any feelings, but I have." "You must not kervit my employ ments. I would not lose you for mil lions. I vants you to consider yourself as identified mit dot Mose Schaumburg Boss Clothing Emporium. No, Mishter Snickerson, it vould preak my heart to lose you, indeed it vould. I vill see dot you have no more causes of comblaint about harsh treatments." "Yes, but how about raising my sal ary a dollar a week, making eight dol lars in all?" asked Snickerson. "I vould not raise dot salary, but I tells you vat I does. You say dot I treat you like a yellow dog. Veil, from now on I treats you no more like a yollow dog, but chust de same as ven you vas a schentlcmen. How you likes dose in ducements, eh? You did not expect I would make dose concesshuns, don't it? I likes to make pleasant surprises for my clerks dot New Years on. Dot ish dot kind of a man Mose Schaumburg vos." Texas Sittings, READING FOR THE YOUNG. A POOR LITTLE CAT. I'm a poor little ally cat; I know what Is meant by "scat;" I know when a stone comes whirling, flying-. Who it Is aimed at. I know my paws are black And leave a dirty track; That dingy streaks of soot and ashes Are on my breast and back. ButI hate the grime and wet, Like cozy places, yet No little girl in the world Is wllling To keep me for a pet. I suppose it Is because They don't like broken paws, And think because I'm fierce and hungry There's danger from my claws. But small as I am and young, No pussy ever sun? A sweeter purr-song, or could polish Cleaner with her red tongue. Oh! if some Ilttlo lady who Loves kittens only knew. She might bo glad, perhaps, to find me. And glad to keep me, too. Clara Doty Bates, in Wide AtoaHe. A COWBOY. Tommy Tries It for One Day In the Coun tryHe Doesn't Like to Be Called " Texas Bill" Any More. "What would you like to be, Tom my, when you grow up," asked Mr. Miggs, turning to his son. Tommy opened one eye, looked smilingly up into his father's face, and replied: "A cowboy." "You shall be a cowboy," said Mr. Miggs, rubbing his hands; "but you are not large enough and old enough to be one yet. It would be too sudden a change to lift you out of the nurse's Ian on to the back of a mustang. I am going to send you out to Benlow's dairy-farm, where we spent a month last summer." "When can I go?" asked Tommy, eagerly. "Just as soon as we can get you ready." "I haven't a bowie-knife," pleaded Tommy. I "Never mind that," replied Mr. Miggs; "wait until you have reached that stage of your education that justi fies the carrying of a knife. Besides, there are no dangerous characters about Benlow's dairy-farm; but if you want a knife just for the sake of ap pearances, Mr. Benlow will be happy to lend you his sickle to carry around, as he has no use for it when the ground is covered with snow." That night Tommy Miggs' dreamed himself a cattle king, walking h?'ighti- ly around in a red shirt, top boots, sombrero, long hair and a portable nickle-plated armory madly shining under his coat tail." He dreamed of '1v!nr aoross the praiilo lifco tZo -vr: 1 n mad. impassioned steed, and be-!x:k'-i niw ns d;igcr us, rfU i i. -ni I - p.e -tang' t On the foilowing day he wad pioua- spinted, and would nave little or noth ing to say to his companions, and it is only fair to say that they envied him, and regarded him as one born under a lucky star. A day or two later he started for the dairy farm with a light heart, it was not a great distance from the city, and Mr. Benlow was on the lookout for him, as he had received a letter from Mr. Miggs instructing him to create m Tommy's breast such a hatred of cows that he would never after care for roast beef. So when Tommy Miggs arrived, Mr. Benlow was at the station with a sleigh to meet him and drive him out to the farm,- which was several miles distant. After they had gone a little way Tom my said: " I've come cut here to learn to be a cowboy." "We'll make a cowboy of you before long," replied Mr. Benlow. "Do you know anything about cows?" " Nothing," replied Tommy, humbly. " Well, we'll open your eyes on cows," said Mr. Benlow. In a short time the sleigh drew up before the Benlow mansion, an old fashioned farm-house, and Tommy was ushered into the parlor, dining-room and kitchen at once, for these rooms were in one at Mr. Benlow's. That night Tommy Migg's supper consisted of salt pork, a glass of milk, some potatoes and a piece of pie. Al though he was not exactly satisfied with it, he had the good sense to ap preciate the fact that it would harden him for the rigors of a cowboy life if he could only outlive it At eight o'clock he went to bed in a large unplastered attic room, with no carpet on the floor, and lumps like cobble-stones in the mattress, and the windows rattling a perfect tattoo in the fierce winter wind that shrieked with out. For a moment he thought of his little sister at home, asleep under a handsome crazy quilt and a roof that didn't leak, with her doll on the pil low beside her, and the nice nursery lire; but he banished this thought in stantly, and fell asleep with a thought of gratitude for his rare good fortune. He was awakened at four in the morning by Mr. Benlow's big boots, as that gentleman came in with a candle, and told him it was time to get up to do the milking and get the cans ready for the train. "We 11 make a cowboy of you soon," remarked the farmer, cheerfully, as Tommy rubbed his eyes. Tommy arose rather reluctantly, for the bed was as warm as the room was cold, dressed for the jlay, and used the paper curtain for a towel. He h ad to bio w on his fingers to keep them warm, and when he got out to the barn he was shivering. "Just give each of the cows some hay," said Mr. Benlow. Tommy did as he was told, being un der the impression that he would next be asked to go out and lasso a bull. But he was made sick at heart when he learned that lassoes were not used, for the simple reason that every animal on the place would come when called, like a dog. As soon as the milk was canned and sent to the train, the Benlows sat down to breakfast, which consisted of buck wheat cakes and coffee that seemed no stronger than ordinary hot water. The Graham rolls and mutton chops of his breakfast at home would have been much more palatable, but ho didn't grumble. While he was eating on in silence, Mr. Benlow said: "How is Car lo to-day?" I "Very sick," replied Mrs. Benlow; "and I don't see how wo are going to work the tread-mill for the churning." "Why, said Mr. Benlow, "we'll let Tommy run eight or ten miles on it It will do him good and improve hii wind." So after breakfast Tommy walked on the treadmill until he thought he would drop. "We'll make a cowboy of you before long," said Mr. Benlow, as he entered with a smile to see how the butter was progressing; "so cheer up, and don't feel homesick, for I have something foi you to do that you may enjoy." "What is it?" asked Tommy. ' "It is to break a pair of yearlings to the yoke. We will yoke them and hitch them to a sled, and you can drive as fast as you like." "That will be fine," said Tommy. So after dinner the steers were brought forth, and yoked and hitched to the sled, upon which Tommy stood as a circus-rider stands on a horse, and started them. "We'll make a cowboy of you yet," rang out on his ears as the yearlings started off at full speed. First they darted in one direction, then in an other. First Tommy was in. the snow, and then back on the sled, for the year lings jerked it in every direction, and pranced on their hind-legs, and whisked hi3 hat off with their tails, and tried to jump fences and drag the sled after them. Tommy thought there was more snow inside of his clothing than there was on the ground, and when he was completely upset in more ways than one by the yearlings, he sat down in the snow and cried, while the yearlings seem to melt out-of sight over the rim of the horizon. The Benlow boys, who followed, caught the runaways and drove them home. At four the next morning Tommy Miggs was altogether too sore to arise at milking-time. He was also too sore to go down to his breakfast That night, to make a long story short, he was back home, and nas not been away, since. It makes him very angry when called Texas Bill, because he has given up his dreams of cowboy life. Tommy is now studying book-keeping, with a view to entering his father's store. He wouldn't be a cowboy if he could; and now the wax doll goes unscalped, the toy babies unmurdered, and the cats and dogs in his vicinity un'assoed. B. K. Munkitlrick, in Harper's Young People. SAUERKRAUT. flavr the Pennsylvania Dutch Fickle Theii rrorlt Dlih. In the fail of t'ae year, aboui i week of Hallowren, the Berks County i: rnirji- sciee? from his crop of cabbage .i-- many ui 'its nrmest ux.... . -:it -L,:rp for hi family's use. In e verv i -ins!'.'i!-: vrtWOS ui uu. ..iiich : '" ;:ivfd ( ' whoever wants them. The cutters are made of a long board with several sharp knives set in the middle. A box that will hold one or two heads of cab bage is made to fit over the knife-board,' ana this is pushed back and forth over the knives, which shave off the cabbage in thin, almost transparent slices. The vessel which receives these shavings is called a "stenner." It is simply a high, narrow barrel. After the bottom of the "stenner" is covered with a layer of about four inches of the cut cabbage coarse salt is sprinkled all over it. and then, with a heavy wooden stamper "shtemble," as it is called in Berks County Dutch the mass is vig orously pounded, and the salt is worked through it The alternate layers of cabbage and salt and the pounding go on until the barrel is full to within six inches of the top, when it is covered over with boards, and weights, arc placed on it to soak the pickle out of it It is ready for use within six weeks after it is made. It is said that in some of the farming districts of this State, instead of using the wooden pounder to pack it in the barrel, some one of the family gets into it and tramps it with the bare feet, generally laying a cloth cover over the cabbage. Of course the feet are first given a good bath. This method of stamping is not generally used, though it is certainly sometimes done. They cook it generally with a good-sized-piece of fresh pork as fat as the pork can be had. Sometimes they add to it while boiling a quantity of potatoes cut in quarters, but they generally have with it a great dish of mashed potatoes, and of this compound of sauerkraut, "speck" and potatoes enormous quan tities are consumed daily in the farm houses of Berks County. There is a German settlement up in New Jersey called Riverside, where, it is said, there is little else than pork and sauerkraut eaten. The place has become famous for the ex cellence of its favorite dish, and the custom has lately grown among these people to give sauerkraut parties. Germans from all the near towns flock to these social parties and eat the greasy compound to satiety and settle ft down with an all-night dance. There are two sauerkraut factories,, in Philadelphia, where it is manufact ured in great quantities, and sold by the hogshead. Ihis kind is considered by the Germans as not as good as the home-made article. .. Sauerkraut is becoming a favorite' dish at the hotels; and can often be found on the bill of fare at the different first-class hotels. That nsed at the hotels is said to be imported from Ger- - man'. Philadelphia Neivs. .Caft linin " cowl flirt mnnnmnrr nr- "WAV, ""' " ""0 C itor to a head-liner employed on the paper, "haven't you made a mistake in the heading to this article?" "How sor inquired the vouth, anxiously You say that the members of Con gress will attend a 'horse circus.' The word 'horse' is superfluous, is it not? All circuses are horse circuses, I be lieve. "You think, sir, it would have been better to have omitted the word . horse?'" "Decidedly." "It would have been all right then?" "O, Yes." But the proof-reader is to blame. I' wrote it 'house caucus. "Oh! Traveler's Magazine. Bread is the staff of human life. and advertising is the staff of business. Toledo made.